Super Meth Time
by aperson16
Summary: jesse and mr. white argue about meth
1. Chapter 1

Knock knock knock. Knock knock. Knock.

It was relentless. It only could be one person. Jesse laid on the floor, unaffected, and thought about smoking methamphetamine for a few minutes, until his door fell off the hinges and onto the floor. In strolled the Mr. White, wearing in his lab coat, pulling along a train of roadie cases.

"Jesse! We need to cook." Mr. White started opening up the cases.

"How the fuck did you get in here, bitch?" Jesse rolled over and stood, trying as best he could to wake up in his hungover state. He fingered his eyelid, scraping off all of the crusty dried mucous unto his other hand, which he then began to snack upon. "And what the hell do you want? I just woke up, bitch."

"I had some extra thermite. Anyway, could you help me out here?" Mr. White pointed toward the largest case.

"I don't need a goddamn meth lab in my house, bitch." Jesse walked over to Mr. White and popped him one right in the face, who fell backwards into all of the meth-manufacturing equipment, permanently destroying all of it forever. "Ha, aha ha ha bitch, what are you gonna do now, bitch?"

Mr. White was already very very angry at Jesse for popping him one, and for permanently destroying all of the meth-manufacturing equipment forever, and so Jesse's taunts made him even angrier. With a flick of the switch, he whipped out his phone, effectually sanitized it, and dialed up his Nazi buddies.

"Jack, I'm at Jesse's house, get over here immediately!" Mr. White didn't even give Jack a chance to respond. "Jesse, Jack's on his way. When he gets here, he's going to take you out into the street and fuck you raw. Unless you help me build a bomb before he gets here. But we don't have much time. What do you say?"

But Jesse was nowhere to be found. He was in the upstairs bathroom, smoking as much methamphetamine as he possibly could. And Gus's cameras were recording every last second of it.

"Jesse!" Mr. White hammered on the bathroom door. "You're a goddamn junkie!"

"Go away Mr. White, I'm trying to shit inside of this toilet, bitch!" Jesse loaded another bowl.

"Nazi Jack is going to be here any second now! Take this gun and get ready!" Mr. White threw a loaded handheld firearm at Jesse, and it hit him right in the damn head.

"That hit me right in the damn head, bitch!" Jesse took a hit.

"Tuco is here!" Mr. White cocked his gun.

-To Be Continued-


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you have herpes? Have you ever slept at a motel? Do you have herpes? Get legal advice! Better Call Saul!" Saul Goodman's face with it's smug shit-eating grin infested every possible square inch of screen space on Walter White's television in Walter White's home. Walter White gripped his weapon so hard that he pulled the trigger by accident, causing it to fire a bullet into the nearby chandeliers, and they became the fallen into Junior's legs, now entirely crippled.

"No my legs!" Junior yelled in a whiny and slurred prepubescent voice, flailing about on the couch like a tortured spider.

"It's alright son. You don't have to be in pain." Walter White pointed his gun at his son. "I'll always remember you as a man." He fired.

Junior's head exploded into meaty chunks and bits that traveled through the air so fast that they caught fire and penetrated holes into the surrounding house environment. Within seconds, the living room was ablaze. Walter White stood and stared at the front door, clutching his gun for when Nazi Jack arrived.

"Yo bitch, maybe you should get your hand on that detonator yo." Jesse looked at Walter White with quite an expression. Walter reached inside his jacket and pulled out the detonator, and began to twirl it around in his fingers. The bomb had been planted inside a plant right outside his front door, a place his enemies would never expect to find a bomb. As soon as they knocked, they would be blown to bits, because the bomb would explosion.

"All we have to do is wait."

* * *

><p>"It's almost 4 PM. The whole house has burned down yo." Jesse knew that he knew it. "Bitch."<p>

"He never showed up." Walter White kicked a nearby puppy to relieve all of the tension, something his yoga teacher (invisible friend) taught him. "Goddammit."

It had been two hours and there was no sign of Nazi Jack. Like an ineffectual spider, Walter White had failed to catch anything inside his web. The only solace he found was in snacking on the ashes of the cedar shelves in the kitchen. Dry and mighty, like his own fucking cooking.

"Well I don't have a house now, Jesse. I blame you." Walter White pointed at Jesse, with both fingers, on both hands.

"Bitch!" Jesse turned and escaped into the night, never to be seen again.

-To Be Continued-


End file.
